


A Harsh Homecoming

by Lady_Phenyx



Series: Whumptober 2019 [20]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Blood, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Springtime Trio - Freeform, ask to tag, budding springtime trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-20 18:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Phenyx/pseuds/Lady_Phenyx
Summary: On his way back to Moomin Valley, distracted by thoughts of Moomin and Snorkmaiden, Snufkin finds himself caught in a cruel trap.Whumptober Day 16: Pinned Down





	A Harsh Homecoming

This had been a good winter.

Snufkin made his way back towards Moomin Valley with a light heart, looking forward to seeing his sisters and the Moominparents...and Moomin and Snorkmaiden.

There was something there, brewing between the three of them, and after a winter of thinking it over he was eager to see where it was heading.

His new spring tune wasn't ready yet, but he could feel it, hovering just ahead. No sense in trying to rush it, it wouldn't come out if he did.

A little more time, and it would be there and ready to play. He was crossing the line into Moomin Valley as it was, and the tune was just ahead, would be ready when it was time to begin and sing out that he was home.

The snow crunched delightfully underfoot, the spring bubbled happily as Snufkin crossed, hopping lightly from stone to stone, and the birds were out and singing.

All in all, it was a wonderful day to be alive and walking through the woods.

Snufkin used this path nearly every year when he returned. It was familiar enough to ease him back to Moomin Valley, but different enough each year that it was a gradual welcome rather than a sharp crossing of a border.

Smiling and happy, Snufkin tilted his head back, letting the spring sun caress his face.

And sharp pain shot up his leg, sharp, crushing pain, and his forward momentum snatched his leg out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Snufkin's cry of pain and shock echoed, sending birds flying and animals scampering away. He curled around his leg, unthinking, and felt something heavy dragging at it, something pulling along behind it.

Snufkin lay there, panting, afraid to look at his leg. Whatever had him was still holding on, cold and unyielding pressure digging into his leg, and he could feel blood starting to trickle down from where it gripped.

The first sudden shock of pain was dying down, still throbbing and painful but less. It still took several deep breaths before Snufkin could open his eyes and see what had happened.

What he saw took his breath again, this time from shocked disbelief.

Who would set a bear trap on the path to Moomin Valley‽ Who would be cruel enough to...

The ugly, hateful thing dug into Snufkin's leg, so very cold and with blood welling up around the teeth. His boot was taking some of the damage, protecting him to a point, but there was only so much the worn leather could do.

A heavy chain led off the trap into the leaves, and Snufkin had come up against the end of it when he'd fallen – it had been pulling against it that had taken his foot out from under him and made things that much worse.

There was a peg of some sort driven deeply into the ground at the other end of the chain.

After staring in disbelief for stars only knew how long, Snufkin started moving.

Slowly he slid off his pack, wincing and hissing each time his leg was jostled, the teeth biting down constantly but shifting whenever he moved his leg so a row of gashes was turning into a ring as his leg shifted under the unrelenting pressure.

Pack off, Snufkin gripped the two halves of the bear trap and pulled, straining to pull them apart.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, the sides began to move.

The teeth bit into Snufkin's paws along with the cold of the winter-frozen metal, and he strained, the blood from the cuts mixing with the blood already on the trap and making it slippery.

And Snufkin lost his grip.

His vision whited out for a moment this time, unable to make a sound from the intensity of the pain.

Snufkin collapsed onto the ground, curling again around his leg.

He could feel the blood still trickling out around the teeth of the trap, starting to soak into his trousers. The teeth themselves were blocking some of the wounds, keeping them from bleeding too badly, but the rest...

Birds were beginning to return, chirping overhead in worry. Snufkin couldn't summon up any reassurance for them.

They tried singing encouragements to him, and a few fluttered off, calling out an intention to go for help. Snufkin wasn't sure it would help – he was the only one he knew of who could understand the birds – but it was appreciated.

Snufkin tried twice more to get the trap off, pulling cloth from his pack to wrap around his paws to keep them from being cut worse. Both times, he couldn't open it far enough to pull his leg out and it hurt more closing again on his leg than the constant pressure did, so despite every instinct calling for him to try again, he had to leave it alone.

He turned his attention to the peg as the skies began to darken – if he could get it loose, maybe he could find a way to get to Moomin Valley, and get help.

The peg was deeper set than he thought, and refused to move when he pulled at it after making his slow, painful way over, the weight of the chain unkind as he moved.

He rocked the peg back and forth, trying to widen the hole so he could pull it free, but it refused to budge.

Why? Why set this here? Why set one anywhere?

Snufkin made his slow, painful way back to his pack as the sun set. There was little he could do this way – he couldn't walk, was reduced to crawling and trying to keep his injured leg out of the dirt as blood continued to seep slowly from the wound each time he moved.

There would be no fire and no tent tonight. Snufkin couldn't gather firewood like this, only whatever twigs were within arm's reach, and putting up the tent was out of the question.

Except...Snufkin strained, and though more blood seeped into his trouser leg, making him anxious with how much he'd lost, he managed to gather enough wood for a small fire.

The birds brought him twigs and small branches once they realized what he was trying to do, and squirrels and small creeps appeared, bringing bits of food from the last of their winter stores.

Snufkin thanked them gratefully, accepting the small gifts as the fire caught.

It wouldn't last long, but it would last long enough to boil a cup of water from his canteen and make a some of the pain relieving tea Moominmamma had slipped into his bag at some point.

He'd wanted to be angry that she had put things into his bag, but at the same time what she'd added was so practical, things he'd already meant to replace but better quality, and it was such a...a  _ mother _ thing to do, and directed at him, he hadn't been able to.

Snufkin had never imagined needing it for something like this, but maybe it would at least dull the pain so he could sleep, and maybe things would scab over and stop bleeding if he could stop moving.

He was low on food – he'd been counting on getting to Moomin Valley soon and Moominmamma's welcome back party, the overflowing bounty she somehow found even in early spring – but he ate some of what he had that could be eaten cold along with the small offerings the animals and birds brought him, drank his tea, and wrapped himself in his blanket to try and get some sleep.

Snufkin had night vision, could have kept fighting, but something like this...he needed to rest, and badly.

Above, owls took over the vigil from the day birds, hooting softly to let Snufkin know that they would keep watch.

\---XXX---

It was a long night of fitful sleep. Snufkin was able to sleep once the tea took hold, but it wasn't enough.

Most of the wound had scabbed over, stopped bleeding, during the night, but Snufkin couldn't tell how bad it was. His boot and some of his trouser leg were still between skin and trap, which was a mixed blessing.

If...when he got out of this, he was going to have to get new boots, Snufkin thought sourly. These ones were so nicely broken in, too, the only thing worse than new clothes were new shoes.

Snufkin shifted without thinking, and grabbed onto his leg, the scream trapped in his throat as the pain that had gone to a baseline flared up again.

The birds above fluttered and cried out for him in distress.

For once, his independence faltered. He...he wanted Moomin, and Snorkmaiden, Little My and the Moominparents and Joxterpappa. He...wanted his family. He wanted them so desperately it hurt, almost as badly as the trap.

Tears threatened as Snufkin held his leg, lowering his forehead to rest on the opposite knee. What was he going to do?

Moving made the harmonica in his pocket shift, and Snufkin dug it out when it pressed against his hip.

He stared at it for a moment, an idea brewing.

Slowly he raised it to his mouth before blowing into it as hard as he could.

The sound carried, farther than his scream could, echoing off the mountain.

He set a rhythm then – three short blasts, three long, three short.

Again and again and again. And along with the SOS he sent out a silent plea.

Please, please everyone, please be awake. Please hear me.

Come find me.

\---XXX---

Down in Moomin Valley, Moomin kept glancing at the path Snufkin usually used and sighing.

Snufkin had been late before, and would be late again, but it didn't mean he didn't still pine at least a little.

And now that they were older, the pining was more of worry. Had something happened? Was Snufkin coming back this year? He promised, so he would, but...what if something happened to him?

What if this year, Snufkin decided he didn't like all the hints Moomin and Snorkmaiden had been giving him the past year, the ones so obvious even Snufkin had figured it out, and decided it was easier not to come back rather than have to turn them down?

Snorkmaiden was there with him today, sitting on the bridge anxiously while Little My teased them as though she weren't waiting for her brother as well.

The sound of a harmonica rang through the valley, but they all flinched from the sound, the most discordant screech they'd ever heard.

A discordant screech that then settled into a pattern.

The songbirds around Moomin Valley picked up on the pattern, swooping down on Moomin and Snorkmaiden while singing it out as loudly as they could. Three short notes, three long, three short.

Moomin and Snorkmaiden cried out, retreating to the veranda with their paws over their heads, while the harmonica notes continued to ring out over the valley, the birds landing on the railings and fluttering their wings.

Moominpappa's window flew open, and he leaned out of it. “Good heavens!” he cried after a moment of intense listening. “Someone needs help!”

“Papa?” Moomin called up.

“It's an SOS, dear boy, we have to hurry,” Moominpappa called down, and Moomin went cold. “The international call for help!”

A call for help. From a harmonica. Echoed by the birds. In spring.

Snufkin!

The three on the porch leapt over the stairs to the ground as Moominpappa raced down the stairs, calling out to Moominmamma. The birds trilled out, taking to the skies and leading the way.

She was already getting out the first aid kit and filling the kettle, preparing for whatever was going to come at them in her calm way.

The four of them raced out of the house, meeting Too-Ticky as they ran. She joined them in following the sound of the harmonica, drawn out by the sound of need.

Their feet slipped in the snow, and more than once they had to pause as echoes of the sound made following the SOS difficult, not sure which was the right one to follow.

But the birds fluttered above one path, urging them down it. Moomin recognized the path after a moment – it was one one Snufkin had shown him once, and told him it was the one he used almost every year in and out of the Valley.

Now Moomin took the lead, running as fast as he could along the path and not caring about the mud that stained his coat or the times his feet slid from under him, he and Snorkmaiden desperate to reach that call for help.

They rounded a bend in the path and skidded to a stop. Moomin stopped so fast he went down, finishing the skid with one paw to the ground.

Snufkin lowered his harmonica, panting.

He was sitting on the ground, and at first, they couldn't see what was wrong as Moominpappa and Too-Ticky and Snorkmaiden and Little My came running up.

“Oh that's bad,” Too-Ticky said, the first to see what was wrong as Snufkin pushed himself up farther, wincing with pain. “Don't move, laddie, you'll make it worse.”

Moomin felt as if he would be sick at the sight of Snufkin's leg, so bloody, so painful. Snufkin should never be in pain, and the black thing on his leg seemed to hold on malevolently, glowering at them all without eyes as it bit down on Snufkin without mercy.

“Here, Moomin, help me get it off,” Moominpappa said.

“Should you? It's blocking some of the wounds,” Snufkin said, weakly.

“We'll hurt you more on the way back if we don't,” Moominpappa said firmly. “Do you think you can pull your leg out? Too-Ticky, Snorkmaiden, help him.”

Snorkmaiden was pale, not her usual golden tone, as Too-Ticky took a hold of Snufkin's leg, ready to help pull it out of the trap, and she took hold of his arms, ready to pull him clear.

Moomin was stronger than people gave him credit for, seeing him as a big, soft marshmallow, and though Moominpappa spent most of his time writing, he was still properly Moomin strong.

So with each of them hauling on one side of the (bloody, cold, sharp, Moomin noticed with a ball forming in his stomach) trap, it slowly opened.

It took so much strength, Moomin was more afraid then ever to think of the pressure it had been putting on Snufkin's leg, how much pain Snufkin had to be in.

As soon as it was open far enough, Too-Ticky and Snorkmaiden pulled on Snufkin's leg and arms, pulling him free.

Snufkin hissed, paws gripping at his leg involuntarily, and Snorkmaiden cried out at the state of his paws. Little My hung back, worryingly silent.

“Moomin, get him to Moomin House _now_,” Moominpappa ordered sharply.

Moomin had already picked up Snufkin and set off at a run while behind him, Moominpappa looked over the spot Snufkin had been lying.

Snorkmaiden snatched up Snufkin's bag, racing after her boys, while Too-Ticky stepped next to Moominpappa and the still silent Little My.

“Now who could do such a cruel thing?” she wondered, both of them looking over the torn-up ground where Snufkin had been trapped, seeing a story of the time he must have spent trying to free himself before calling for them.

“I don't know,” Moominpappa said bleakly, walking to the peg the trap was chained to, seeing with slowly building anger how it had been moved, how Snufkin had tried to pull it up but failed. He grasped the peg and pulled, hauling on it with all his strength and the weight of his bulk behind it.

It didn't want to come, the half frozen ground holding it tight, but it had to give eventually, and Moominpappa picked up the hateful thing by the chain. “I intend to find out.”

\---XXX---

Snufkin clung to Moomin silently as they raced down the path, but his breath hitched, tiny little cries coming from him now and again that tore at both Moomin and Snorkmaiden's hearts.

His boot and trouser leg were so red, so bloody...what if...could his leg...what if they had to...

Tears threatened Moomin's vision and he forced them back. He couldn't think of that now, he had to get Snufkin to Mamma, not waste time on what-ifs

Moominmamma was waiting on the veranda as they burst from the tree line, and her paws flew to her snout as she caught sight of Snufkin.

They were rushed inside, and Snufkin seated on the table.

Moominmamma eased off his boot, telling Snufkin what she was doing just before she did it, narrating gently.

Moomin hurried to bandage Snufkin's paws, ignoring how his own shook, before he took gentle hold of Snufkin's paw, worried more at its trembling, as Snorkmaiden took the other, both of them holding on as Snufkin gripped their paws tight in pain.

“I'm sorry dear, but I have to take these off,” Moominmamma said, touching Snufkin's trousers. “It's that or cutting them, I can't get at the wounds. I can't roll them up far enough.”

Snufkin flushed faintly but slid to the floor, leaning against Snorkmaiden as he worked off the trousers, lifted back onto the table as soon as they were far enough, the smock more than long enough to preserve modesty.

Moominmamma set about examining him then, her touch gentle and firm, still narrating each move before she made it, gently cleaning and bandaging.

Snufkin continued to cling, and as out of the normal for him it was they let him, holding him, until he reluctantly had to let go, Moominmamma directing Moomin to fetch a cup of the pain tea she'd started brewing.

“There's not much I can do, but it's not broken, so there's that,” Moominmamma said at last. “It's bruised down to the bone and I wouldn't be surprised if it is a little bit fractured, but not full broken. It's going to be a few days before you can move, dear. I'll find some crutches for after that, and the bleeding should stop soon. I'll have to keep watch on it, to be sure there's no infection, but you should be all right. But it's going to take time.”

“I'll help you up to bed,” Snorkmaiden offered as Moominmamma finished bandaging Snufkin's leg.

After a moment, Snufkin nodded, letting Snorkmaiden pick him up and carry him upstairs. They paused as Moominmamma gently, slowly enough for Snufkin to see her coming, took his face in her hands and brushed a moomin kiss across his forehead.

Snorkmaiden carried him up to the sick room, and he didn't protest being carried, or even Snorkmaiden's anxious chatter about getting him clean, worrying her more.

“Just...stay awhile?” Snufkin said when Snorkmaiden paused in her worrying over what to do for him. “I...could use company for a bit.”

Snorkmaiden drew over the chair and sat, startled when Snufkin took her paw, but simply held his gently as Mamma's tea finally took hold and Snufkin slipped into sleep.

\---XXX---

Downstairs, Moominmamma put away the first aid kit, her movements sharp with anger over he son's state. “What did this?” she asked.

“A trap,” Moominpappa answered, coming in the door and pulling over his newspaper to lay the trap in question on. It clanked onto the table, cold and cruel, discordant and wrong. “Little My's gone for the Inspector, and she's already building up to a fine fury.”

“Well I can't blame her, this is beyond cruel,” Moominmamma said angrily. “To think that anyone could...”

She trailed off, and there really wasn't much any of them could say to that. It was only what they were already all thinking.

\---XXX---

The Inspector came and went, and Moomin had little faith in him finding who had done this.

So he set off for the witch, Little My in tow.

Snorkmaiden he asked to stay behind, to watch over Snufkin.

What if this meant Snufkin was afraid to come back? What if he was scared that it would happen again?

What if it did? Who had that trap been set for?

Moomin stormed up to the witch's hut, knocking twice before entering.

“I need to know what it'll cost to get you to curse someone,” he asked.

The witch and Alicia both jumped at his sudden entrance.

“Well, well, one of those goody goody Moomins wants to curse someone, how interesting,” the witch drawled. “What could have gotten your fur in a ruffle? Someone wake you up on the wrong side of the bed this year?”

“Someone set a bear trap in the woods leading into Moomin Valley, along the main path,” Moomin said. “It got Snufkin. He's hurt real bad, he could have bled out if we hadn't gotten there when we did. He could've been hurt even worse, or permanently.” Moomin had to take a deep breath after saying that, while Little My stood by and glared. “It's the same path Alicia uses, along with everyone else who comes and goes from Moomin Valley. But we don't know who did it.”

The witch had gone still. Very, worryingly, still.

She claimed to hate helping them, even though she did so now as the whim hit her, and she was more than likely on the brink of brushing him off or saying something nasty, except...

Moomin was right. There were main paths in and out of Moomin Valley, and Alicia did travel along that one quite often, as it was one favored by those who lived there, so it was timing that had Snufkin lying in bed in pain and not Alicia.

“So, what are you expecting me to do about it?” the witch finally asked, turning to look at Moomin, glancing at Alicia, whose hands were pressed to her mouth in shock and looking to her grandmother pleadingly.

“Do you have to know who did something to curse them, or can you do it with 'whoever set this trap'?” Moomin asked.

The witch raised her brows. “Oh, well now, that's a difficult proposition young man.”

“What if you used the trap?” Alicia asked.

“Hmmm, maybe so,” the witch said, rubbing at her chin.

“I think the Inspector has it,” Moomin said. “He was supposed to start looking.”

“And yet you came to me instead?” the witch said. Moomin nodded.

The witch hummed for a moment, then fetched her broom. “I'll meet you at the station,” she said. “Get the trap back, and I'll use it for my spell. Your inspector can use that to find out who did it.”

“Oh, thank you!” Moomin said, as Little My bared her teeth in anticipation.

\---XXX---

The witch's spell was more effective than Moomin had anticipated, making the one who set the trap have the same wounds as Snufkin, something he couldn't hide. It upset him, and yet...

the one who had set the trap had given a racist rant that horrified everyone who'd heard it as the Inspector marched him off to the cells, about the quality of people who 'deserved' to live in Moomin Valley, about mumriks, and Moomin was glad Snufkin hadn't heard it.

Moomin wished he hadn't heard it.

It was hard to feel sorry for setting the witch on him, especially when Snufkin was still hurting.

At least he was able to come outside, seated on the veranda. He had to be carried up and down the stairs, but Mamma was sure he'd be able to walk it himself in a few days at most, even if he would have to borrow the crutches and take it easy for a bit after.

For all Snufkin was independent and needed his space, he was being very cuddly right now. Moomin and Snorkmaiden felt intense guilt over enjoying it, though Little My and Snufkin both laughed at them (very differently) and told them to enjoy it while it lasted.

Who would have guessed Snufkin got like this when he was sick? At least until he was well enough to move, when the forced inactivity could start to chafe.

But until then...he wasn't admitting it in words, but he'd had a bad scare, and here and now, for the first time, felt safe enough to silently seek out the comfort and reassurance he'd been craving.

Joxter showed up a day after Snufkin arrived, word having been passed along that he was needed, and he and Snufkin were asleep now on the veranda as Moomin returned home, curled up together like a pair of cats in the sunshine, with Joxter wrapped protectively around his son.

Snufkin blinked sleepily up at him, and Moomin sat on the stairs to join them. His paw drifted over to run through Snufkin's hair, and Snufkin's eyes closed, lulled back into sleep and softly purring.

Soon, Snorkmaiden and Little My joined them, Moominmamma and Moominpappa soon after.

They were safe. They were together. And Snufkin was already healing, both inside and out.

Eventually, everything was going to be all right.


End file.
